


Miss Carter

by appalachian_fireflies



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, CACW spoilers, Depression, F/M, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, POV Peggy Carter, Peggy doesn't need your shit, Polyamory, get your head out of your ass Steve, is the solution to love triangles, peggy is better than toxic masculinity, poor lonely Steeb, posessiveness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-05-25 00:11:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6172270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appalachian_fireflies/pseuds/appalachian_fireflies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Peggy Carter, back from 1951,” the nurse laughed.  “She Elvis sometimes too?”  </p><p>Peggy is transported to a broom closet in 2013, Steve freeclimbs El Capitan, and Bucky turns up when he is needed most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asocialconstruct](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asocialconstruct/gifts).



> For asocialconstruct, who wanted skinny steve/peggy, which this is not. Whoops.

“You’ll just have to distract them, then,” Peggy said into the radio hanging just by her ear. Howard had thought it would be a good idea to fasten it to her clothing; bless him. Peggy let out a bit more of the line, and attempted to concentrate through the blood rushing to her head. She could nearly reach the gently pulsing device, bathing the room in a soft violet.

“Yes,” Jarvis agreed quickly, voice crackling over the speakers. “How?” 

Oh, good lord. Her fingertips brushed the device, and the pulsing sped until the flickering became painful to look at. 

“Mr. Jarvis,” she said calmly, “you are a brilliant man of good comport, and I am certain you can figure something out.”

“Mr. Stark?” Jarvis said suddenly, clearly confused. Peggy’s heart rate climbed and she struggled to right herself on the line she dangled from. This was not part of the plan. 

“Miss Carter,” Jarvis said, tone changed, “the device is not a bomb.” The line began to reel her in, and Peggy huffed. 

“Mister Jarvis,” she started crossly, ascending towards the high ceiling. Their plan was sound, and it had taken ages to infiltrate these headquarters. If they missed their chance, Stark had predicted the entire city could be lost given the sheer amount of power the device drained.

Static crackled over the radio. 

“Mister Jarvis?” Peggy tapped the radio, concerned. 

Then the room exploded in a flash of blinding light. 

*

It was dark here, but she could still sense the presence of close walls surrounding her, a strong scent of mildew and decay. Like a tomb. 

Peggy shot up, panicked and disoriented, and promptly made contact with something hard and unmoving, ringing with a metallic clang. 

“Oh,” Peggy said shortly, touching her head, and fell back just as sharply to the ground. 

*

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Peggy moaned, opening her eyes slowly in to the glaring light overhead. It was a poor decision; the light had become an attacker, its target her eyes. Was she concussed? 

She closed her eyes, willing the nausea creeping through her lower belly to settle. 

_She’s waking up._

“Hello,” a voice near her ear said. Male. “Can you hear me?” 

“Hello,” Peggy replied with a pained smile. “Am I in trouble?” 

The man laughed, and Peggy opened her eyes. “Depends, I suppose,” the man replied. “Can you tell us why you decided to sleep in the janitor’s closet? You’re the talk of Oak Grove High.” 

“Janitor’s closet?” Peggy replied, confused. She was a bit startled by the man’s appearance, and the room… 

“Where am I?” Peggy demanded sharply, and the nurse held up his hands. 

“Mount Sinai. Hospital.” The nurse paused, looking at her eyes, one, then the other. Checking her pupils. “Can you tell me your name? You weren’t carrying any ID.” 

“Agent Margaret Carter,” she said briskly. “Strategic Scientific Reserve.”

The man’s face set into an expression Peggy knew well, that infuriated her. Another hysterical woman, it said. 

“Ok, Miss Carter,” the man replied, exaggeratedly gentle. “I’m just going to get the Doctor. You rest, now.” 

“Wait-“ she started, but the man left the room. 

She attempted to heave herself upright, feeling her pulse quicken. Something was horribly wrong. She put weight onto the balls of her feet, only her stockings between them and the cold linoleum floor. 

A guard stationed himself outside her door, and she froze. 

“Please lie back down, ma’am,” the guard stated, then turned to watch the hall. 

Peggy didn’t like her odds of getting past the man in her current condition, and decided the thin blankets were warmer, anyhow. 

*

“Agent Margaret Carter, SSR,” she said, wincing at the pen light being shone in her eyes. 

“What year is it?” the doctor asked casually. 

“1951,” she said automatically, with a sharp smile. “Would you like my serial as well?” 

The doctor looked at her for a long moment. “We’ll have someone right with you, Miss Carter.” 

*

Peggy languished in the hospital for several days, sighing and repeating her name, the year, her address, her date of birth. 

Her demands to see Sousa, even Thompson were met with silence. She was only allowed to make circuits of the room, to have scans, and to take her medication. She was certainly being detained- but by whom?

“Oh good lord,” she said finally to her fifth doctor, cross. “I barely have a headache anymore. I’m quite well, thank you.” 

Then the trouble began. 

*

They’d banished her to a sanitarium. She was surrounded by patients in the throws of psychosis, and they hollered quite a lot. She couldn’t fault them; if she were being restrained while imagining spiders crawling over her body, she might yell too. 

As it was, she was something of a favored patient. Laughed at and ignored, someone polite, obviously harmless. 

“Peggy Carter, back from 1951,” the nurse had said. “She Elvis sometimes too?” 

They didn’t let her have a television in her room- bad for her head, they’d said- but there was one in the common area. 

There were little things adding up to where she wondered if she might not be sane- the television, far too slim. The embarrassing lack of clothing. The medical devices looking as if Howard had dreamed them up. It was a roaring static in the back of her mind, threatening to overtake her. 

So she planted her feet. 

“Phyllis,” she asked her roommate when she was approximately half a day in, “what year is it?” 

Phyllis whistled. “You poor thing. It’s 2013.” 

It hadn’t been Peggy’s intention to remain in the sanitarium for even a day, medicated into a hazy stupor with lord knows what against her will. She was just… at a loss, for next steps. She was alone in the world with no door home, no Howard Stark to dream up a solution. She tried to tell herself she’d been in worse situations before, breathe deep and think calmly and clearly, not lose logic to any emotion. 

Who could she convince she was who she claimed to be? Where could she go? The SSR had been dissolved, and apparently most knowledge of herself besides “Cap’s girl” had as well. Mental hospitals around the world now routinely came up with women who imagined themselves the infamous Peggy Carter, who'd succumbed to grief in 1951 and never reappeared, no matter that she had been an agent on assignment, or that six years had passed since Steve’s death. 

It chafed, certainly, but she was soothed by imagining Steve’s outrage upon hearing such nonsense. It still hurt to remember him, but she could now feel fondness with her grief. She’d never had a partner so well matched to her sharp outrage, her secret care. She never would again. Life moved on. 

Peggy wasn’t in the institution 24 hours, doggedly grappling with reality, when she saw Steve again. 

Her first reaction upon seeing the stars and stripes was to look away. 

“Thought he was your boyfriend,” Phyllis noted, carefully dicing her carrots. 

Peggy scoffed. “It’s crude. They should let the man rest.” Even now they were trotting out the shield. The memory of the good man Steve Rogers had been still a dancing monkey, after all these years. It made her sick. 

Phyllis hummed, shifted her potatoes to the far edge of the plate. “You’ve forgotten, dear. They took him out of the ice.”

Peggy stood and moved away, closer to the television. She couldn’t hear Phyllis speak so casually of the ice, and she wanted to leave the room entirely. But she couldn’t. She moved as if compelled towards the screen, towards that shock of blond hair, the nape of his neck- Captain America turned to face the camera with a tired smile, cowl removed. 

Peggy gasped, pressing her hand to the literal pain in her chest at the rapid uptake in her heartbeat. “Steve,” she said, voice breaking. Her fingers could nearly touch the clean screen. 

_“Cap on the run?”_ the screen said in bold scrolling letters, covered by closed captioning. 

_Cap’s disappearance after the Battle of New York_ she read, and felt one of the orderlies approaching behind her. 

“I’m sure he misses you too, sweetheart,” the orderly commented, and it was that smugly superior laugh again. Condescending. Well, there had to be a straw to break the camel’s back, and this gentleman would do fine as a distraction. 

Peggy turned, snapped the palm of her hand out, and broke the man’s nose. 

“Not your sweetheart,” she spat in his moment of shock, grabbed his keys, and bolted towards the door. 

Which was locked with a passcode. 

“Oh. Oh, _shit_ ,” Peggy swore frantically. 

A melee of excitement broke out behind her, which decently distracted the guards, until-

Four numbers were worn down. The address of the building. Were they really that foolish?

Indeed they were. Peggy opened the door, unlocked the staircase, and ran for her life. 

*

It was surprisingly simple to find the information she needed in this bizarre world built upon the bones of her old one. The rushing cars, the New Yorker attitude, it was all the same. She could walk down the streets in hospital clothing, then a clearly outdated thrifted outfit, and not a soul batted an eye. The trousers she didn’t mind, but good lord. Everyone’s clothing was clearly so cheaply made, and women’s clothing in particular was uncomfortably tight and shoddy. So much for the future. 

Stark Tower, the center of the previous alien attacks, was also easily reached with verbal directions. Frankly, the eyesore was difficult to miss. 

Howard had died a long while ago, as had each of the Commandos, she’d learned with no small sense of loss. She thought, though, if she could only get to Tony Stark, he might find her interesting enough to believe. 

She strode through the doors of Stark Tower in a bright red hat pulled low over her eyes, a red pop of lipstick that would've cost her more than a week’s rent (she’d felt badly for stealing, but, well. She did have quite the excuse). She walked to the front desk, and cleared her throat. 

“I’d like to see Mr. Stark,” she smiled widely. “I’m an old friend of his father’s.” 

Security tried to gently usher her out, of course, but they were more resistant than she anticipated to the facts. They then tried to not so gently usher her out, and she huffed in annoyance. 

“Agent Carter to the 75th floor,” a familiar voice announced to the lobby, and Peggy froze. 

“Mr. Jarvis?” she replied automatically, wild hope filling her for a moment. The guard’s hand on her elbow loosened. 

“Not as such, Miss Carter,” the voice responded, and Peggy felt a pang at the familiar address. “Mr. Stark would like to see you now.” 

“This way, ma’am,” the guard said, apparently accepting this, and guiding her towards the elevator.

The elevator door slid noiselessly shut behind her, and she barely felt the movement as she ascended, numbers rapidly scrolling on an electronic readout. 

“Please remove the knife from your leg, and leave it in the elevator,” Jarvis’ voice said smoothly, and Peggy flushed, caught out. 

“Oh, all right,” she agreed, pulling the knife out from beneath her dress and letting it clatter to the floor. “Can’t fault me for being careful.” She turns in a circle, scanning the elevator for any electronic gadgets that might have seen through her, and finds none. Not even a microphone. 

The elevator slides to an easy stop all too soon, and she steps out, not looking back when it shuts behind her. 

“Mr. Stark?” she calls, feeling foolish. 

“Please step forward, Miss Carter,” Jarvis says from the walls, and Peggy steps forward. An opaque wall slides away, and she’s in an open space- a lounge, from the looks of it, with some sort of glass screens. She sees movement from behind one of the screens, and a man steps out. 

“Agent,” Tony Stark greets, glass in hand. “I wondered when this might finally happen. You have some timing.” Stark knocks the glass back, ice clinking, and there’s something familiar, even if Howard would have been appalled by his son’s style of undershirt. 

“Where is Mr. Jarvis?” Peggy asks, opting to remain in place. 

Tony’s eyes soften. “He died in ’84,” he informs her, and her foolish hopes plummet to her toes. “Stomach cancer. I’m sorry.” He takes another long sip of his drink. “He always thought you’d walk through the door one day. He raised me on stories of you.” He smiles, genuinely fond. 

“I hope not the stories I’ve been hearing,” Peggy says ruefully, catching her grief. 

Tony barks a laugh. “No, no. The bold, unwavering Peggy Carter,” he says in an approximation of British English that actually isn’t terrible. “He never stopped looking for you. Like my father never stopped looking for Cap.” 

Peggy lets her gaze drift, taking in the pain of that statement, one she knows so well. She remembers waiting to find Steve, to lay him to rest. She remembers the Commandos searching for Barnes’ body. 

“Do you have any more of that?” she points to Tony’s glass, and Tony smiles. 

“I sure do, Miss Carter,” he returns with a lopsided smile. “And boy are you going to need it.” 

*

“The SSR became SHIELD,” Peggy pauses to take a long drink, leans back into the leather couch. Stark’s son did know something about quality, even in his oddities. “SHIELD became HYDRA.” 

Stark shook his head. “They signed on Zola. HYDRA was there all along.” 

“SHIELD is HYDRA,” Peggy says slowly, pushing back stray loose hairs from her face. 

“SHIELD is about 50% HYDRA,” Stark amends. “They were so strong that Fury made me a spy, during the hellicarrier project.” 

“You sabotaged them,” Peggy confirms. 

Stark nods. “And set off an intelligence Civil War. I haven’t heard from Director Fury for five days.” He takes another swig. He has quite the tolerance. “I’m waiting for shit to start blowing up. Literally.” 

And here is the question Peggy has been waiting to ask. “Where is Steve?” 

Tony sighs, scrubs a hand through his hair. “We fucked things up with Steve,” he admits, as if it pains him. “We told him SHIELD was created in his name, yadda yadda, sent him on missions not long after the ice ‘cause we could use him. Told him to do some morally dubious stuff in the name of his country. He just, left. Showed up for the Battle of New York with a lumberjack beard, but. Doesn’t want to be found, otherwise.” 

“He was right,” Peggy ventures. Steve never lost his moral compass, no matter the circumstances. He would always smell a rat, and would certainly have known when they were using him as a bully. 

“He was,” Tony acknowledges. “But, we could really,” he winces. “Use him.” 

“Where is he?” Peggy asks, and Tony grimaces. 

“He’s gotten surprisingly good at staying off the grid,” he admits. “Even to me. He’s been, well. You know he’s Catholic, right?”

“Of course.”

“So, he’s doing his good little Catholic boy routine and not throwing himself off a cliff,” Tony tilts his head side to side, “but he’s doing his damnedest to get thrown off one. You understand me?”

“Oh, Steve,” Peggy sighs, because she can certainly picture it. He’s the only person in the world as hard-headed as she is, and in isolation, with his sense of right and wrong forfeit-

“I heard from a park ranger that he tried to wrestle a bear,” Tony notes. “Then he dropped off the map.” 

“If I may,” JARVIS cuts in, and one of the glass panels becomes a sort of projector screen. 

“Oh, good lord,” Peggy says, exasperated. 

Steve is holding grimly to a sheer rock face, sweat pouring down his temples. The camera zooms out, shaking slightly from its position on the helicopter. 

Peggy buries her face in his hands. 

“Is that,” Tony says, slack-jawed, “is he climbing El Capitan?” 

“Freeclimbing,” Jarvis confirms, and Peggy makes a noise. 

“You need to tell him to stop this nonsense,” Peggy turns to Stark, and he raises his hands, palms out. 

“He won’t listen to me, I can guarantee you that.” Stark tilts his head, looks her up and down in a way that makes her grumble her disapproval. 

“We can be there in half an hour,” Stark says, and disappears. 

*

“I remember a very different plane, and a different rescue,” Peggy says over the hum of the quinjet engines. “Your father at the helm.” 

Tony makes a face. “Yeah, no offense,” Tony hits a few buttons, then sits back, the plane apparently flying itself. “I’m not interested in hearing stories about dear old dad.” 

Peggy kicks off her heels, changing into the shoes she’s been given with these surprisingly practical trousers. “How about a story about Barnes, and the birth of the Howling Commandoes, and Captain America?” 

Tony freezes. “Yeah, about Barnes.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve found him too,” Peggy smiles, and Tony winces. 

“You remember how I said Fury disappeared?” 

“Yes,” Peggy says slowly. “Whatever you’re trying to say, I have very little time.” She begins pinning up her hair, bobby pins in her teeth. 

“Before Fury disappeared,” Tony starts, “with, with Pepper. My wife. CEO. Anyway. Fury said they’d found the Winter Soldier, and after their attack he’d gone rogue.” 

“This means nothing to me,” Peggy says, exasperated. 

“The Winter Soldier is a ghost story for intelligence operatives,” Tony summarizes. “The perfect assassin since before I was born. Except, we’ve done some looking, and he’s real. Fucking terrifying. HYDRA’s greatest asset since 1944, according to their files.” Tony looks at her, his full attention fixed, and Peggy sees Howard in his eyes, in all his faults and glories.

“Agent Carter, were you aware that Sergeant Barnes was given the super soldier serum while being experimented on in Azzano?”

“No,” Peggy shoots back quickly. “Barnes was,” she stops. A man who kept his secrets close to his chest. Who could be charmingly extroverted, but mostly kept to himself, watched over his men. Protective. Especially towards Steve. 

“Oh dear god,” Peggy announces. “I’m going to wake up any moment now.” Tony walks over surprisingly fast for a man so inebriated, and pinches the pressure point at the join of her thumb. Hard. 

“Ah!” she complains, shaking him off. 

“Miss Carter,” JARVIS cuts in, “I would suggest you check the safety of your climbing gear. ETA four minutes.” 

“A woman’s work is never done, right Mr. Jarvis?” Peggy says wryly, tugging her straps tight and staring toward the ceiling. 

“Quite. The anchor operates by-“ 

“Yes, yes, I know. Tony has made it quite clear.” Peggy feels the plane decelerating to a surprisingly smooth and sudden stop. The bay door opens. 

“Lovely, thank you Mr. Jarvis,” Peggy says, on reflex. “I believe I need to go rescue a very foolish, very distressed young man.” 

“Good luck, Miss Carter,” JARVIS says, and Peggy strides out into the sunlight, not bothering to catch her breath. Life moves on. She anchors her line, and descends over the edge of the sheer cliff face. 

Steve has made surprising progress, but even so, his arms tremble as he ascends, brow furrowed in deep concentration. Peggy watches him register a body descending towards him, and he has the nerve to sigh heavily. 

“Look,” Steve starts, hosting his foot into a particularly treacherous looking cranny, “I appreciate your concern-“ he turns toward Peggy, who has managed to sidle inches away from him, and his jaw goes slack. 

“Pegs?” he says, voice breaking, and fumbles his grip on the cliff face. 

“You complete and utter idiot,” Peggy says, furious with him for caring so little of his life, and activates Stark’s contraption, hooking Steve around the waist, attaching him to her line. 

His body jerks and halts its fall, slowly ascending towards her. She grabs him by the line at his waist, feeling his chest heave in breaths, eyes wide and fixed on her face. 

“I’m hallucinating,” Steve tries. Peggy frowns, grabs his ear, and tugs. 

Steve winces. 

“I am very, very cross with you,” Peggy starts, “and I came quite a long way to tell you that you can pull your head out of your arse and help me, or I can save your country myself.” 

Steve smiles, eyes watery. “You need my help?”

“I certainly do not,” Peggy huffs. “But I am inviting you to make yourself useful.” 

“You came back,” Steve’s small, genuine smile breaks across his face. “Where have you been?” 

“You know,” Peggy replies, reflecting, “I’ve no idea, actually. A mystery for another day, perhaps. But I’m here now.”

Steve laughs, wondering. “Thank god.” 

Peggy can hear the anchor mechanism; they must be reaching the top. 

“We have a lot to catch you up on,” Peggy tells him, trying to ignore the warmth filling her, the desire to lean in and hold Steve, to breathe him in until she feels settled. Home. 

“How long have you been here?” Steve laughs and shakes his head, lets his hand cover hers where it rests on his waist. 

“Oh, nearly a week now. Delayed by a nasty concussion. The broom cupboard had sturdy shelving.” 

“Of course,” Steve says, and hauls himself easily over the lip of the cliff, then gives her a hand up from where she’s found her footing again. 

Steve freezes when he sees the Quinjet, then turns away into the woods. 

“Not going back to SHIELD,” he says shortly. “I’d like it if you came with me.” 

Peggy is just about to open her mouth to yell at him when Steve freezes. A broad-shouldered man wearing a long-sleeved shirt and clipped backpack strides into the clearing, long hair falling into his face. He brushes it back with a metal hand. 

Peggy comes up next to Steve, and Steve reaches out, steadies himself against her. 

“Hey doll,” the man says, and Peggy bristles, but then, “Hello Miz Carter,” the man looks toward her with a nod, then lets his gaze drift back to Steve. 

“Bucky,” Steve mouths, barely a whisper. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. 

“The one and only,” Bucky smiles, eyes soft when he looks at Steve. Then he turns back to Peggy. 

“If you’re going to survive this,” Barnes says, hooded eyes resting in exhausted circles, “you’re going to need my help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the tense switch. will probably fix that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note the rating change!
> 
> *edited this chapter cause I didn't like a couple things

“We need him,” Bucky argues, like he’s going to haul Steve by the scruff of his neck back to the quinjet. 

Steve sticks out his jaw, obstinate. 

“I know where HYDRA took Pepper Potts,” Bucky says, no inflection. 

All at once, Peggy watches Steve’s expression change- soft, then determined. “They have Miss Potts?” Steve starts walking back toward the quinjet, shield still strapped to his back in the ridiculous circular case that ostensibly acts as camouflage but does nothing to hide it. “Why didn’t you say so?”

Peggy gives Barnes a shared look behind Steve’s retreating back, and he shrugs, as if to say, _you’re welcome_. 

Steve boards the quinjet easily, but as soon as Peggy tries to enter the bay door she gets the nasty surprise of an energy weapon pointed at her face, glowing bright in the darkness. 

Not at her face, she realizes only a moment later. At Barnes’.

“Stark,” Barnes greets, and Peggy has a moment of déjà vu. 

“Soldier,” Tony parries, “Winter?” 

Bucky looks at him for a few long moments, something unspoken passing between them. “I know where Pepper Potts is.” 

Tony’s response is to charge his weapon- a portion of the suit she’d seen while reading up on him, covering the palm of his hand. Metal bits fly from god knows where to cover his body, and Peggy is impressed despite herself. Anthony certainly has style. 

“Take me there, then,” Tony says in an electronic voice, a smiling tone that’s anything but joking. 

Barnes grunts, rolls his left shoulder, and ascends the bay doors. He claps his metal hand on Tony’s shoulder and squeezes, just enough to leave an impression in the metal. “Happy to, Ace.” 

Barnes joins Steve where he’s been ready to intervene, shield on his arm. 

“Oh, put away the measuring tape,” Peggy tells Stark, cross, rolling her neck to crack it as she moves into the plane and hears the door shut behind her. 

Bucky has moved to the console, a holographic map hovering in front of him as he speaks to JARVIS. 

“You don’t know what he’s done, Peggy,” Tony says darkly, and moves over to join Barnes, still in his suit. 

Peggy frowns, sensing something personal here, but is wise enough to let it simmer beneath the surface. She pulls back some stray hairs to fix them into one of her pins, and joins the conversation at the helm. 

“Once we do this, we’ll have to be on the run,” Barnes cautions. “Maybe for years. HYDRA has operatives everywhere. They’ve been pulling the strings since the ‘50’s; even I don’t know every operative they’ve planted.” 

“I’ll figure that out for myself, thanks,” Tony shoots back. “If you think I would even stop to think about the consequences to myself before I did everything in my power to rescue her-“ 

Barnes holds his hands up. “I’m not saying that,” he replies, tone even. “I’m just saying, they’ll know how much we know. And they’ll know I’m with you. They’ll never stop hunting me.” 

“Good thing you’re not with me, then,” Tony says lightly. “I’m just teaming up with the villain to take down the bigger villain. Temporary arrangement.” 

Peggy sees Steve open his mouth, ready to chew Stark out, but Barnes cuts him off. 

“Didn’t expect different,” Barnes says casually, and moves to the side of the bus, scans it, then hits a panel that displays a range of weapons under thick glass. Barnes looks over at Stark. 

“You can look, but you can’t touch,” Stark singsongs. “Not ‘till we get there.” 

Barnes grunts in acknowledgement, and hits another panel. 

Steve is staring after him, something complicated passing over his expression. Hurt, maybe. 

“So,” Peggy says to him, “it’s been quite some time.” 

Steve turns to her, letting Barnes go for the moment. “Yeah,” he says, voice full of wonder. 

Peggy walks over to the benches lining the jet, and sits down, smiling to herself when Steve sits closer than he needs to. Steve laces their fingers together, and she sighs, leans against his shoulder. 

“I bet you have a story to tell me,” Steve says playfully, and she laughs. 

“Oh, you are not going to believe me.” 

Steve actually laughs at her retelling of the hospital escape, shaking his head. “Oh, he had’ta know he had that one comin’.” 

Peggy pouts. “Why is it that everyone thinks I withered from grief like some Victorian maiden from a novel?”

Steve looks into her eyes. He can’t seem to look away, now that he’s started. “I wanted to set ‘em straight. But it hurt too much to miss you, much less talk about how much I loved you to a crowd of strangers.” 

Well. There’s only one thing for that. Peggy leans in and kisses him, lets him cup her jaw, lips soft and chaste on hers. Her heart flutters; she wants to laugh. His stubble chafes a little, and she isn’t bothered one bit. 

“Better late than never,” Steve says finally, pulling back with a playful smile on his face. “I’m not sure the Stork Club still exists, but-“

Peggy punches him on the shoulder, eyes a little teary (Steve doesn’t point it out, bless him for knowing better), and laughs. “Oh, shut up Steven.” 

A dark shape flickers in the background. Barnes. Peggy looks over, and he looks away, turns back to the wall of weapons. 

Barnes had always been an odd man. Steve had said that Azzano had changed him, but Peggy wasn’t sure that entirely explained his behavior toward her. He respected her, certainly, but it was stiff, formal. Agent this, ma’am that, even when the Howlies were at a bar together with Peggy, laughing uproariously over tales of their exploits. 

She thought she was beginning to understand something she’d known all along, but had tucked in the back corner of her mind. Barnes had always been protective towards Steve, affectionate, but she hadn’t thought Steve returned those affections. Something told her that Steve would never have kept one lover in secret whilst lying to another, but perhaps she had been wrong, somehow. 

“Be there in half an hour,” Stark says from the helm. “You should eat something. Both of you.” 

“You should engage stealth mode,” Barnes says softly. 

Tony hits a button, spins in his chair. “Now how do you know about that, soldat?” 

Barnes looks away, zips open his pack to reveal some pieces of body armor. 

“Where is your helmet?” Peggy asks Steve, mouth half full of a protein bar. 

“New York,” Steve answers honestly. 

Peggy rifles through a drawer of protective gear, and pulls out a helmet, tosses it to Steve. He makes a face. 

“Oh, don’t be a drama queen,” she chides, and Barnes snorts from where he’s pulling straps tight across his chest. 

Peggy applies some camouflage makeup across her face, because Barnes is doing so and he seems to be the only one who knows what they’re walking into.

“Tony,” she says, tucking her hair under her own helmet, “you seem to trust Barnes an awful lot for a man who doesn’t trust him.” 

“I think he’s the only lead I have to Pepper,” Tony says from behind his visor. “Here’s some advice, for free: watch your back around him.” 

“Anything else I should know, before we’re in an active combat zone?” Peggy asks archly. 

“Mm,” Tony swivels his chair, “Pepper is basically indestructible now and can breathe fire.” 

“Oh good lord,” Peggy wishes she were more shocked. “Is she-“ 

Tony waves a metal hand. “She’s fine, I stabilized the formula. Same old Pep. Just, you know.” 

“Yes,” Peggy nods. “Well, thank you for that information.”

“I’m rooting for you,” Tony says, and turns back towards the console. “Two minutes,” he says loudly, and when Peggy turns Barnes is suited up, dark as the interior of the plane, invisible. 

Steve, on the other hand, is holding his customary target aloft. Barnes moves away from where they’ve been exchanging words, and Steve frowns. 

“We’ll talk later,” he says to Bucky, who makes no indication of having heard him. 

“What’s the plan?” Peggy asks, down to business. 

“The quinjet shouldn’t be visible to them,” Steve replies, “but Buck says they’ll know we’re here soon enough.” 

“Ah. Through the front door, then?” 

“Side door,” Steve amends with a smile. He always did love to make an entrance. 

“I’ll distract the guns, get you through,” Stark offers, standing to hand each of them a headset. 

Barnes grunts, and stands at the bay door, waiting for it to open into the field they’ve settled into, out of the range of the base’s sensors. At some point the glass must have slid back on the weapons casing; there are firearms strapped to his entire torso. 

“Where are we?” Peggy asks mildly. 

“Canada. Somewhere,” Steve shrugs, standing by her. 

“When we get through the front door,” Peggy says, accepting the firearm Steve hands her, checking the chamber on reflex, “are we splitting up?”

“Back to back,” Steve offers. 

“Barnes?” 

Steve shakes his head, eyes going pinched around the edges. “I’m not sure. Peggy, what happened to him?” 

“I don’t think I have the entire story,” Peggy responds gently, “and I wouldn’t want to give you incorrect information.” 

Barnes stalks down into the dusk and tall grass; there’s really no other word for the way he moves. Like a predator. 

Steve watches him go, looking more troubled than Peggy has ever seen him. “Whatever they did,” Steve’s voice takes on a tone Peggy recognizes from the hunt for Zola, the days after drinks in a bombed out bar, “I-.” Steve stops, shakes his head. Follows Barnes into the darkness. 

They have barely any warning before Barnes anchors a stand into the shifting soil, launches a grenade, and charges in after it. 

Stark curses, going into the air, and draws fire, his glinting red and gold suit a far easier target than Barnes’ dark, swiftly moving form. 

Peggy follows in after Barnes, Steve overtaking her, and thinks any bullet aimed at Stark is a mistake. 

Barnes wreaks chaos faster than Peggy can run towards him. A sharp movement here- a snapped neck, two bullets with superhuman precision. A hand grenade leaving behind a circle of charred, screaming bodies, and Barnes keeping running like a man possessed. 

He gets hit many times, most of it hitting his armor. Not all. He keeps running, and Steve has nearly caught up, tries to shield his body from bullets, face grim. Peggy keeps to the shadows, takes advantage of the distraction. She hoists herself atop a crate and crawls, belly down, towards a window. 

Steve and Barnes have resumed their customary position, back to back, but Peggy can’t imagine this is the war. They killed men, then, many young men following orders from their country, or pulled into dreams of glory. But they were never quite this brutal, or efficient. When Barnes reaches the metal door, he simply puts his arm through it, and rends it. 

Peggy shivers. That hand had been close enough to punch its way through her soft, brittle skeleton. 

She makes her way to the window. 

“Peggy?” Steve asks through the speakers. 

“Found another route,” she whispers. “Go on, you’re giving me a lovely distraction.” 

“Anything for you, Agent,” Barnes says, and the words are right, but the tone is off- like he’s trying to pull inflection into his words, and coming up cold. 

Peggy lowers herself gently through the propped window- it’s warm this time of year, even in a HYDRA base. Steve and Bucky are off to her left, moving towards the center of the compound. The space is surprisingly open, descending several levels below ground. Stark is nowhere to be seen. 

Barnes looks like a mad man with his hair flying in wet strands in front of his eyes- how does the man even see through that, much less accomplish the completely impractical headshots he’s been firing?

Barnes is enhanced; of this much she is certain. The only question is what has it done to his character. The serum created Captain America, but it also created monstrosities. 

The pair descends into the lower levels, and Peggy slips in behind them, watching. The guards on the upper levels don’t follow; they seem to be distracted. Tony has made his own way in. 

Barnes takes two rapid right turns and a left, Steve following without question. They are moving further underground with each step. Barnes clearly has a destination in mind. Peggy only hopes it isn’t a trap of some sort. What does she know of Barnes now, really, besides Steve’s blind faith? 

Peggy passes an elevator door, pauses, doubles back. Something is odd about the door, she is certain of it. Barnes is moving further away, deeper into the bowels of the compound, yet she stands here, transfixed. 

“Where do you go?” she says, tapping the edges of the elevator. Just how much deeper can this building go? She gives the doors a sharp rap, presses her ear against the door. There is no echo. 

“Tony,” she says over the intercom. 

“Go ahead,” Tony says. 

“What is that godawful music?” Peggy winces, trying to adjust to the screeching. 

“Strikes fear into the heart of my enemies.” 

“Right. When is an elevator door not an elevator?” 

“Is this a riddle? See, I love riddles, normally, but my brain can only do so-“ 

“They wouldn’t keep Miss Potts in the upper levels,” Peggy cuts in. “Not if she’s as destructive as you say.” 

“When is an elevator door not an elevator?” Tony muses. “Stay there, coming to you.” 

“We have about a minute,” Tony says, flipping his faceplate up, hair pressed to his head with sweat. “An elevator door is not an elevator when it’s a door.” The faceplate snaps back down. “JARVIS?” 

“Working, sir.” 

“Can we blast it?” Peggy asks. 

“The structure may be unstable,” JARVIS returns. “Forces heading your way.” 

“I’ll distract,” Tony’s repulsors power up. “You go get my wife. Just shout ‘strawberry smoothie.’”

“What?” Peggy yells after him, exasperated. She hears the sound of gunfire in both directions, and takes a breath. The elevator door makes a whirring noise, and slides open. 

Revealing an entire hallway of guards. 

“Ah, hello,” Peggy says, and leaps out of the way of the ensuing bullets. 

“JARVIS!” Peggy shouts, running from the troops on her tail, “How complete is your control of the base's technology?”

“Nearly complete, Miss Carter. What do you have in mind?”

“Lovely!” she shouts over the bullet that flies past her ear as she turns a corner. “Please lead me back to the prisoner’s section, Mr. Jarvis!” 

“Left,” JARVIS instructs. 

“Can you open the cells to allow me in?” Peggy asks. 

“Yes. I am not sure I understand your plan. Left.” 

“Working on it!” Peggy pants. “Allow me into the most heavily reinforced cell, and lock the door behind me.” 

“Yes, Miss Carter. Left.” 

The hallway has only two guards now, who are surprised enough to see Peggy again that she runs right past them, towards the door of the cell that has begun to crack open. 

“The hallway acts as an airlock chamber, yes?” Peggy asks JARVIS, sprinting for the “I imagine there are measures to keep prisoners from escaping should they get that far. They should work just as well on the guards.” She slides into the cell, and the door rapidly shuts tight behind her. 

“The guards are coming in now,” JARVIS informs her. “Please remain where you are, Miss Carter.” 

Peggy sighs in relief, and turns to see a woman glowing with fire, eyes bright orange and furious, fingers poised just inches from Peggy’s throat. 

“Strawberry smoothie!” Peggy blurts, and the woman cocks her head. 

“Tony sent you? Who are you?” the woman asks. 

“Four more minutes, Miss Carter,” JARVIS says in her ear. 

“Well, that’s quite a long story!” Peggy smiles, eyes wide. “Peggy will do you just fine, though.” 

“Peggy,” the woman repeats, and the bright orange of her skin fades until only her hair is bright as a copper penny. 

“Why strawberry smoothie?” Peggy asks, stalling.

“Oh,” the woman smiles, all of the sudden sweet, professional. “Tony forgot for years that the only thing I’m allergic to is strawberries. When had a bit of a fight when he brought me a box of them. Then he got me a strawberry smoothie _while we were on our honeymoon_.”

Peggy winces. “Oh dear. What a clod.” 

“He has his moments,” Pepper sighs, but she’s smiling. “How’s the rescue going?”

“Well, I think. Mr. Jarvis is gassing the guards.” 

“Oh,” Pepper laughs, “I thought maybe you’d gotten thrown in here with me.” 

“Hello Miss Potts,” JARVIS says through the cell speakers. 

“Mr. Jarvis,” Pepper addresses him with a small smile. 

“Out of curiosity,” JARVIS asks, “what would you have done had there been no secondary measure in the hall?” 

“Oh, well,” Peggy trails off. 

“We would have taken care of them together,” Pepper supports her with a wink. 

“Yes, exactly.” 

JARVIS opens the cell door, and Tony is standing between the bodies of unconscious guards. 

“Miss me?” he says, flipping up the faceplate, and Pepper puts her hands on her hips. 

“Did you run my company into the ground while I was gone?” 

Tony puts a hand on his hip, mirroring Pepper. “Into the ground is a little dramatic, don’t you think? It was only a week.” 

“I can think of several international incidents that took _minutes_ ,” Pepper replies, though the corners of her mouth are twitching. 

“Well,” Tony’s eyes go off into the distance, thinking, and Pepper moves forward. 

“Come here, hero,” she says, and leans in to kiss him. 

“Where are your shoes?” Tony asks, frowning. 

“I can only hope someone appreciates Blahniks,” Pepper says glumly. 

“Those were your second favorites,” Tony notes, and Pepper smiles. 

“This is fun, but I’d rather have a shower. Are we going home now?” 

“We aren’t getting Fury?” Tony tilts his head. 

“He’s not with you?” Pepper asks, confused. 

“No,” Tony replies, suddenly grave. 

“He escaped with Widow,” Pepper says, paling. “I know he isn’t here.” 

Tony sighs, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Home, first.” He turns towards Peggy. “You’re welcome to join,” he tells her. “Barnes isn’t.” 

Pepper looks further troubled at this news, but doesn’t comment. 

“I think I’ll remain here,” she says. “Steve needs someone to watch his back.” 

“He sure does,” Tony says darkly. He flips the faceplate down, and walks away, Pepper at his side. “You know where to find me, if you need me.” 

“What of Barnes’ warning?” Peggy yells. 

“We’ll make our own way,” Tony’s voice comes through her headset, then cuts off. 

Peggy makes her way down the hall tracing Barnes’ last known steps. 

“If I may,” JARVIS cuts in. 

“Oh, hello Mr. Jarvis. Thought you’d gone on with Tony.” 

“I am able to run several tasks at once. If you’re trying to locate Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes, I suggest you turn right.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Jarvis,” Peggy replies, warmed. 

“At your service, Miss Carter.” 

Peggy has a moment where she realizes she will never watch Edwin Jarvis say those words to her, ever again, and presses onward. 

“I would like to warn you that you're entering a potentially volatile situation,” JARVIS cautions. 

Peggy hums, follows Steve’s voice down the corridor. 

“You don’t know that!” Steve yells, and Peggy recognizes the frustration. 

“I do!” Bucky shouts, and Peggy turns the corner. Bucky is standing at a console, fingers poised on the keys. The crushed remains of some technology are littered around him- tubes, metal fastenings. The bare bones of a metal chair. 

“Only the sublevels,” Steve replies, and it’s his command voice, the one he rarely pulls with Barnes. 

Barnes actually _growls_ in frustration, flips a switch, and stalks out. 

Steve notices Peggy, and she watches him literally slump in relief as he walks toward her. 

“Miss Potts has been located,” Peggy reports, “She and Stark have left the building.” 

Steve looks guilty for a moment; he must have forgotten about the point of the mission, following Barnes down to this cheerless room. What had Barnes pulverized, apparently with his bare hands?

“Good work,” Steve replies judiciously. “We have to evacuate this floor in the next ten minutes.” 

“Ah,” Peggy says shortly, and they follow Barnes up. “What was all this about?” 

Steve shakes his head for a moment. “They tortured him,” he manages finally. “They tortured him for years, and no one even looked for him. They wiped his memories.” 

“They can do that?” Peggy asks, disturbed. 

Steve nods grimly, shield in front of himself, like he’s hoping to find some more men to attack.

“What was that argument I just walked in on?” 

Steve sighs. “Bucky wanted to blow the entire base.” 

“It is HYDRA,” Peggy reasons They'd done as much before. 

Steve shakes his head. “Some of them don’t know they’re HYDRA. Not yet.” 

“Oh. That is complicated.”

“He said that leaving it was an invitation for them to regroup. He’s changed.” 

“I imagine so,” Peggy reflects. “Were you aware he received the super soldier serum at Azzano?”

Steve’s head snaps toward her. 

“He knew,” Bucky’s voice floats back through the corridor- and how could she forget the hearing?

Steve nods. “It’s not the same serum, but. I knew he’d been given something.” 

Peggy shakes her head, imagining what the SSR would have done if they’d known Steve and Barnes had kept such a thing from them. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Steve says, honest guilt weighing his expression. 

“I’m very glad you didn’t!” Peggy raises her eyebrows. What a horrid choice to make. 

Barnes is waiting at the mouth of the corridor. 

“After you, Agent,” he says, leading them into a very standard looking white car labeled _Camry_. 

“Inconspicuous,” Barnes smiles, and the base shakes beneath their feet. “Time to go.”

They switch cars twice before they stop to rest, and Peggy is about ready to drool on the arm rest. The boys don’t look much better, though Barnes’ concentration at the wheel is resolute. 

Peggy doesn’t even think to argue when Barnes gives her one of the room’s two beds (sleeping apart seemed dangerous for a number of reasons) with his customary “ma’am,” and she passes out once she slips beneath the sheets. She hopes there aren’t bed bugs; it certainly looks to be that kind of a place. She’s done worse, though, and a bed’s a bed. 

Peggy startles awake to a sob from Steve, attuned to him even in her exhaustion. Early morning light is just beginning to break through the windows. She remains still, assessing the situation before she acts. 

Steve’s breath hitches, and Peggy opens her eyes. 

Steve and Barnes are twined around one another on the second bed, covers askew. Steve has his face buried in Barnes’ neck, and it takes every ounce of effort in Peggy’s body to not make a noise. 

Barnes is watching Peggy over Steve’s shoulder as he kisses his neck. “Yeah, baby?” he says softly, and Steve’s hips shift, pressing up against Barnes. 

Barnes kisses Steve’s hair, genuinely affectionate, but his gaze when it meets Peggy’s is challenging, direct. 

Barnes’ fingers travel down Steve’s bare spine, down, down, until they slip beneath the waistband of Steve’s underpants, and _press _.__

__Steve gasps, and Peggy flushes. Barnes smiles._ _

__“We can’t,” Steve counters, wrecked. “Peggy-“_ _

__“Ok, Stevie,” Barnes soothes, and lets his hand travel back upward, rubbing circles between Steve’s shoulder blades. “Go back to sleep.”_ _

__Peggy lies awake for what must be an hour, furious at Barnes’ challenge, itching to meet him head on._ _

She's fairly certain she should be angry with Steve as well, but her mind's focus seems to be firmly on Barnes for the moment. More than anything, what she feels towards Steve is concern. Is he aware of the game he's involved in? He must be. 

Eventually she groans and goes to the bathroom to take a shower. She swears that she hears Barnes chuckle. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for cacw spoilers, graphic violence, medical trauma

The next morning, Barnes announces that they are driving to Alaska. 

“Alaska?” Peggy pulls up the pair of trousers Stark gave her. Why on earth are they cut at the hips rather than the waist?

Barnes nods. “Then backpacking. Should take…” He pauses. “Three days.” 

Peggy has the uncomfortable feeling that he was revising his calculations to include her presence. “Backpacking?” 

“Too conspicuous to steal a plane. Would be seen if we parachuted. We have to hike.” Barnes shrugs, lacing his boots. “Unless you’d rather stay here. It’ll be difficult for you; we’d understand.” 

Peggy can feel that smug bastard smiling. She can’t see it, but she just _knows_. 

“Oh, no you don’t. You’re perfectly aware I can handle some time in the mud. We could all use some gear first, though.” 

Barnes shrugs. “I won’t freeze. Or, if I do,” he smiles in a way that’s meant to make Peggy uncomfortable, but instead confuses her as to how she feels. 

“You will take care of yourself first, so you can keep an eye on your troops. Yes?” Peggy remembers Barnes as a sergeant; it wasn’t so long ago. 

“Yes ma’am,” Barnes gives her an eyebrow and a sloppy salute he would have been reprimanded for. His attitude is his own problem, however. Peggy thinks someone else might find it charming; she finds that ignoring it is the best she can ask of her self-control. 

Barnes makes like a bandit through the local sporting goods store, grunting as he throws various items into the basket after smooth, appraising glances. 

In this case, Peggy can’t say she blames his tension; there must be over 200 kinds of fishing poles in here alone. The volume of buzzing fluorescents is bringing back the headache she’d thought she’d recovered from. She blinks to clear the shimmering from her vision and presses forward. _Can't show weakness in front of the men_

When they get to the checkout, Barnes is all smiles and flattery, and Peggy would feel duped, were it not for the tension holding the corners of his smile in place.

Steve is waiting with the car fueled and takeout in hand. He has a cap pulled low over his eyes, which is frankly ridiculous, large man that he is standing next to their sedan. 

“Covert,” she mutters, and swears she hears Barnes let out a surprised snort behind her. 

“I heard that,” Steve comments, wry, and folds himself down into the driver’s seat. 

*

Alaska really is rather cold. 

They aren’t at the point where the days either never begin or never end, but it’s a miserable slog nonetheless. 

Steve, gracious as he is, keeps Peggy’s pace while Barnes flits through the trees, scans ridges, and frowns each time he loops back to check their progress. 

“Last of the pie?” Steve offers him through a mouthful. 

Barnes ignores him, turns to Peggy. “The longer we take, the more they have a chance of seeing us coming.” Then he turns his heel, insubstantial in the darkness of the evergreens towering high above them. So perfectly the ghost from the past that Steve tracks him as long as he can, as if afraid he will vanish. 

Steve sighs, offers her a bite, which she refuses. She gets by just fine on less than 6,000 calories a day, thank you. 

“He’s,” Steve starts, trying to make amends for his friend. 

“Capable of speaking for himself,” Peggy cuts him off. The horizon glows yellow, the perpetual rain making the needles of the trees shine, beautiful and wicked. 

Barnes becomes increasingly taciturn as they draw closer, his games halted for now. He sleeps little, paces through his restlessness, tight as an old string pulled to hit a pitch it can no longer reach. 

Peggy has no such problem. She hit exhaustion several days back. Her lips are tight and allow no complaints to pass them, but her feet throb with every beat of her heart. 

“Tomorrow,” Barnes says shortly to her and Steve, then leaves the tent to brood. She falls asleep on Steve’s broad, pillowed chest, smiling to herself at the wonder in his eyes as he gently runs his fingers through her tangles. 

She wakes with a crick in her neck, but she also wakes warm, relaxed to her toes. She would never have done this before, as an Agent of the SSR, in front of the troops she fought to earn the respect of. They’d learned to rely on her, and she could not lose that. She’d loved it, at times. At others, she felt the enormous, sinking weight of the fact that she would never be good enough. One small weakness, one small mistake. 

“Pegs?” Steve asks, his voice clear. He must have been awake for a while now, and stayed still to avoid disturbing her. She closes her eyes, hears his heart beat. She needs to remember this, she thinks. She needs to hold on to every detail, for the future, when-

“Yes darling?” 

“Was there anyone else? I mean,” Steve clears his throat. “If you left someone behind, I-“ 

Peggy feels the corner of her mouth tilt against the fabric of his shirt, then rolls away to look him in the eye. “Believe it or not, it’s difficult to find a man who can tolerate a woman who beats him in arm wrestling in front of his peers for a pint,” she winces, “not to mention a woman trying to take down a ring of powerful men, many of whom wind up shooting at her and anyone close to her.” 

“I never could imagine your life being quiet, after the war,” Steve says with a smile. "You’ll have to tell me about that some time."

“Perhaps,” Peggy allows. Her gaze darts to his lips. 

The tent flap opens, spilling in harsh sunlight. “We need to get moving,” Barnes says, then drops the flap, immediately plunging Peggy’s vision back into darkness. 

Peggy rolls up onto her feet, the moment broken. She pulls her overshirt on, layers accumulating. “What about you?” 

“What?” Steve says absently, layering himself in ways that Peggy doesn’t remember him needing before. 

“Anyone catch your eye?” 

Steve laughs, shakes his head. “Would you believe I still can’t talk to women?”

“I didn’t say a woman,” Peggy says, and watches Steve’s head jerk towards her. She’s close enough to see his pupils dilate with adrenaline. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

_You most certainly do,_ Peggy thinks, but lets it go. “You expect me to believe not a single person attempted to throw themselves at you?”

Steve ducks his head. “I might not have been paying attention,” he admits. 

Peggy thinks of hours spent at the punching bag in Stark’s backyard, lost in her own head. 

“Perhaps I wasn’t either,” she allows, and it’s as much as she’ll admit of her grief. 

*

Barnes has not spoken for hours. 

They’ve moved up sharply in elevation, hiking a ridge to tenacious glaciers on sharp black rock. The wind chaps Peggy’s face bright red, and the sun reflects off the snow, a dazzling pain. 

“Won’t they see us here?” Peggy calls out to Barnes. 

“Yes,” Barnes answers tersely. “But they're too remote for rapid reinforcements.” 

“Seems an odd choice for a military base,” Peggy points out. 

“It’s not a military base,” Barnes says, and the circles under his eyes are so dark and cold when he snaps his mask into place that Peggy shivers.

“We’re here,” Steve says, pulling his shield to snap to rest on his arm. He scraps a booted foot across the flat ground, revealing the markings of a landing pad, fine snowflakes rapidly moving with the wind to cover it. 

Peggy scans the ridge. “No one’s shooting at us,” she remarks. 

“They should have shot us before now,” Steve looks at her. 

“They haven’t shot us because no one’s left,” Barnes bends down to touch the ground with his metal hand, grinds it deep into the ice, and tugs. The ground shakes, opening a passageway beneath their feet. “They knew we were coming.” He looks at Peggy, and she feels her heart drop to her feet.

"I don't think they saw us," he allows, and she can feel herself breathing in. "They knew I'd come here next."

“Abandoned ship?” Steve summarizes. 

“Might be rigged,” Barnes returns. 

“Should we be going in blind?” Peggy asks, peering into the dark stairwell. If there is indeed a trap, a wrong step could blow their bodies apart, far from hope of medical aid. 

“The trap wouldn’t be for you,” Barnes says, and heads into the mountain. 

“Well,” Peggy huffs, “alright then.” 

Steve watches the stairwell for a moment. “They don’t want to kill him,” he says absently. “They- this is a cage, isn’t it?” 

Peggy looks at the barren ridge, devoid of troops. There is nothing here to defend. The wilderness sprawls beneath them, unsurvivable without proper gear. She feels ice slide down her spine, and follows after Barnes. 

After Steve comes in behind her, the panel slides shut with a grating clank, blocking all light. The flooring beneath her feet lights up, too white and clear, not the warm yellow light she remembers. 

“When I woke up here, in a broom cupboard,” Peggy comments, “it was so dark I thought I’d been buried alive.” 

“We’re all getting out of here,” Steve says in his best Captain voice, and Peggy wishes she had his faith. 

She does believe in herself, however, and in making her own way. She draws a gun, takes a deep breath to steady herself, and clicks off the safety. 

“Can you hear which way he went?” 

“Left,” Steve replies softly. 

“Anything else?” Peggy whispers, low. 

“No,” Steve says. “Dripping water. Something- I’m not sure.” 

“Barnes?” Peggy whispers, just enough for him to hear her. 

“I can hear his arm,” Steve says absently. 

Barnes grunts, and Peggy’s head whips toward the sound. “Hostiles?” 

“Door,” Barnes finally replies. “Rusted helluva- there.” 

A clank as the door unlocks, followed by a series of clanks. It slides on unsteady wheels, and for a moment Peggy can’t do anything but blink at the light. 

“Help,” calls a gasping voice, “please,” Peggy hears a wet cough before she sees the surgical table, the restraints, the bright overhead lights. 

A tray of scalpels, still bloody. A body left behind. 

Barnes is standing in center of the room, frozen. 

Steve rushes past him to the cabinets, looking for supplies, anything he can recognize. 

Peggy stares at the table, can't look away. There’s a lot of blood, but it isn’t from the halted surgery; something is wrong, eating him from inside. His skin is peeling from his flesh like her mother peeled onions; not just the fine top layer, but digging into the meat underneath. 

They are days from help, if there was any to be had. The man is still staring at Barnes, riveted. He’s young, maybe mid-twenties, eyes bright and feverish as he gasps for breath. 

“You came back,” the man croaks out. 

Barnes peels the mask from his face. “Yes.” 

“Do you,” the man looks at the peeling flesh of his torso, slowly running down to his legs, “do you know, what.” 

Barnes stares at him. 

“It hurts,” the man gasps, “please.” 

“It won’t hurt much longer,” Barnes says to him, and Peggy holds out an arm to keep Steve in place. The most he can do is inject this poor boy with adrenaline. 

A flash of terror crosses the man’s face, then he extends a hand, palm open. 

Barnes steps forward, mechanical, and takes it. “It’s okay,” he says, expression unchanging, “the worst of it’s over, now. Just.” He takes a step further, cradles the hand in both of his palms, metal and flesh. “Relax. Don’t be afraid.” 

The man takes wet, rattling breath, eyes glazed with pain. He grasps the metal hand with surprising strength, pulls it to his throat. 

“Don’t let them bring me back,” the man gasps, fervent, feverish. 

“I promise,” Barnes says steadily, but won’t tighten his grip.

“Down, two lefts and a, a right. Not the way you came. They want you.” He pushes up into the metal hand. “Please,” he begs. 

“Don’t,” Bucky looks away. “Don’t make me do that.” He pulls his hand away to rest at the man’s side, but doesn’t disentangle their fingers. 

It doesn’t matter, anyway. The gasping suddenly picks up, sharp _ah, ahs _that don’t stop.__

__“It’s ok, it’s ok,” Barnes whispers. “Its over.”_ _

__He’s still holding the man’s hand when his eyes are staring at nothing, his skin losing its fever._ _

__“Buck,” Steve says softly, and Bucky’s head snaps up sharply._ _

__“I left them behind.” Barnes says, blank. Peggy lowers her arm, lets Steve step forward. “I left them here, to, to be carved and injected and their brains burned. I left them.” He looks beyond them, into a room of dark glass tubes, and Peggy realizes with a jolt that there are bodies inside._ _

__Steve holds out his hands, palms facing up, and Bucky’s still tracking him, wary, but he’s still not quite there._ _

__“They didn’t have a chance, no one was coming for them, because I just watched it happen. I let it happen.”_ _

__“Buck,” Steve manages, like his heart is breaking, and moves in as Bucky shakes his head, moves away._ _

__Peggy follows them into the room of chambers, their pumps and lights shut off. Barnes holds his flesh hand to the glass, checking- what?_ _

__“Not frozen,” he says, and moves to the next one. “None of them.”_ _

__Peggy can hear it now- the water, dripping. Out from the chambers, over the floor. If they did wake, they drowned._ _

__Barnes smashes a metal fist through one of the glass tubes, watches the water pour from it. The body inside slides forward to press on the glass, suspension displaced. “They’re getting more desperate. Regrouping to their strongholds, getting ready for a fight.”_ _

__He leaves the room, and they follow. Two lefts and a right._ _

__There’s an opening to the mouth of a wide cave, meant to house aircraft that are no longer there._ _

__Barnes hesitates._ _

__“If there’s no switch,” Steve muses, “we could probably make do with the wiring.”_ _

__Barnes looks over at him, grateful. “There are fuses,” he walks a few paces back, digs metal fingers into the floor to revel a level’s worth of wiring._ _

___He remembers,_ Peggy thinks. _ _

__“Let me have a look at that, Barnes,” she says, and he steps aside to allow her in._ _

__“The metal arm,” Barnes tries, and Peggy shakes her head._ _

__“Is a conductor, and I’m not going to do anything foolish, thank you,” she says primly, pulling out a small light from the floor to set between her teeth. “Any idea where to start?”_ _

__Steve watches them while Bucky fails to meet his gaze. They don’t leave any bodies behind._ _

__*_ _

__When they make it back to their base camp, Barnes is pacing the edges, scanning the trees with a sharp eye. Steve stares after him._ _

__“Would you like me to give you some space?” Peggy tries, edging toward the tent._ _

__Steve shakes his head. “He doesn’t want to talk to me.” He turns his gaze to her, silent. He doesn’t turn away._ _

__Peggy chokes. “You can’t be serious. I’m not, the best at,”_ _

__“Hmm?”_ _

__“Gentle words,” Peggy finishes. “I really think it should come from you.”_ _

__“Trust me, he’s not gonna listen,” Steve says, and parks himself next to their pile of dry tinder, clicking a lighter._ _

__“You have that ready when I return,” Peggy grumbles, and takes off after Barnes, curious despite herself._ _

__He, of course, chooses to appear out of the darkness just inches from her face._ _

__“Jesus, Mary, and… good lord, Barnes.”_ _

__He stares at her, quiet._ _

__She can feel a deep sigh filling her chest. “What is it that you’re doing, Barnes? What is the this mission of yours you’ve taken us on?” Does he even know himself?_ _

__Barnes lips twist in a private smile. “No more missions, sorry Miss Carter.”_ _

__“You know, I think you do that just to get under my skin,” she says, wry, thinking of all the times she reminded him _Agent, it’s Agent Carter_. She realizes too late her poor choice of words, watches his expression go blank. _ _

__“I wanted to tell them to go fuck themselves,” he returns casually. “Tried living on my own. Had something of a job, mattress, little kitchen. Quiet life. I just wanted to be left alone.”_ _

__This surprises her. _It’s not revenge?_ she wants to ask. _This feels enough like a crusade._ “What happened?”_ _

__“They triggered me. Longing,” he spits. “Rusted. Seventeen,” Peggy feels a ripple of fear at the pure hatred in his voice, “Daybreak. Furnace. Nine. Benign. Homecoming. One. Freig…freight...” He stops, takes a deep breath, and Peggy is glad. He looks away._ _

__“I didn’t kill anyone. But I could have. I could’ve leveled a town, burned down a school. There are more words, safeguards. I don’t know them all. I still have a hard time, when they’re not, in English.” He looks up. “They’re never going to leave me alone. Unless it’s an assassin’s retirement.” He smiles._ _

__Peggy thinks about that, thinks about the torment of the man on the table. _The worst of it’s over._ He’d been so sure. “You’ve never thought of ending it yourself?” _ _

__Barnes lips part, like he’s surprised by the question, or that she would ask it. “I’ve thought- I can’t remember, if they conditioned me not to.”_ _

__Peggy lets the implication of that wash over her, and feels a stab of pity. Barnes is an ass, yes, and she won't excuse his behavior, but no one deserves-_ _

__Barnes reads her like an open book, thunderous. “You shouldn’t pity me,” he says, short. “I’ve killed-“ he looks at her, calculating. “I killed Howard Stark.”_ _

__Peggy can’t help it. She makes a small, startled sound, like she’s been punched in the gut. “You, you what?”_ _

__“I totaled his car, dragged him from it, strangled him while he said my name. Then I strangled Maria Stark. She was trapped, injured. There was nowhere to go.”_ _

__Barnes turns away from her while she’s still reeling, legs shaking with the need to run. But her mind kicks in, reliable as always. She's never been a particularly emotional creature, though Howard, poor Howard, devilish and obnoxious and generous, unbiased- she will think of that later. This was calculated to shock her. To get her to- what? Turn against him?_ _

__“Of your own free will?” she calls._ _

__He turns back, expressionless. “Of my own hands. No matter where I go, they’re mine. Do you understand?”_ _

__“Yes,” she says finally. “Steve wouldn’t, would he?”_ _

__“No,” he replies, short._ _

__“He loves you,” she says, by way of explanation._ _

__He raises an eyebrow, and Peggy’s not sure he understands her. “I’m not letting him go. I know it’s the right thing to do, you don’t need to tell me that. I know I’m not worth it. But I can’t, this time.”_ _

__“I tried to take down a ring of evil men on my own,” Peggy starts, non-sequitur. Barnes’ brow furrows; he's focused now, attentive. “No one listened to me. I had to fight them by relying on only myself, when it came down to it. Nowhere was safe. I failed, apparently.” She looks him in the eye, refusing to be intimidated. It’s how she deals with each of her fears. “You seem like a man who could use some allies.”_ _

__He nods. “Agent,” he says shortly, and disappears back into the forest._ _

__Of what, she thinks to herself._ _


End file.
